


I’ve been feeling everything: from Hate to Lust, from Lust to Love, from Love to Truth (I guess that’s how I know you)

by highlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, a bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:30:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlinson/pseuds/highlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis kiss at a party when they're drunk. It changes everything. They don't really know how to cope with changes. Everything pretty much gets worse from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’ve been feeling everything: from Hate to Lust, from Lust to Love, from Love to Truth (I guess that’s how I know you)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran's Kiss Me from +
> 
>  
> 
> Read the warnings!

Harry has accepted that Louis is happy with Eleanor. Well, not really, but he has learned how to cope with it. How to live with it. He wants to be the reason behind Louis’ smile, but Eleanor is. But at least Louis is smiling. He wants to be the one to keep Louis warm with his embrace, but Eleanor does. But at least Louis is warm. He wants to make Louis happy, but Eleanor does. And really, the only thing Harry has ever wanted and will probably ever want is for Louis to be happy, and when he needs her for that, he’d have to accept that.

And, Harry’s not stupid, he knew right from the start that a romantic future with his best friend was a daydream that’d never come true. So he tried to ignore the burning ache in his chest when they cuddled, or when Louis messed his hair up affectionately, because although he knew it was in a completely platonic way, he’d never want to miss it.

And the thing was, he knew that things would change if he told Louis. So he didn’t. He came out to the boys, yes, told them sometime in the third week on the X-Factor that he was gay, and they were amazing. But this was different.

So Harry tried to contain the overwhelming feeling of pride and love and trust he felt whenever he was with Louis, as well as the sadness and annoyance whenever Louis would mention Eleanor. She was a nice girl, really, but Harry couldn’t help thinking he was so much better for Louis.

****

There he was now, on a balcony beneath twinkling stars and a cloudless sky, pleasantly tipsy and breathing in the fresh night air, thinking about Louis, as always. If he were to chose, he’d describe himself as a poetic drunk. If that existed. He was poetic anyway, his slow drawl of words captivating and his wide range of expensive-sounding vocabulary stunning to others. But when he was drunk, he’d compare Louis to the sun, energetic and hot, drawing everything in. And he’d compare himself to the moon, quiet and pleasantly warm, keeping everything in order, like the seas. He was very aware of the fact that the moon’s light was only a reflection of the sun’s happy beams.

He was startled from his reveries when the door behind him opened with a small creak and the noise from inside wasn’t muffled for a few seconds until it closed again. Leisurely, he turned around, only to be faced with Louis, who was clutching a bottle of beer loosely in his right hand and stood somewhat unsteadily in front of him, a pleasant smile almost splitting his face in two.

“Harryyyyy”, he slurred, coming closer, brows furrowed as he focused on not swaying too much.

The younger boy held him by his biceps when he came to a stop in front of him, his beer bottle carefully placed on the wooden desk next to him.

“Hi, Lou. Having fun?”

Louis nodded and then furrowed his eyebrows again.

“Whatcha doin’ out heeere?”, he asked, pinching Harry’s hip absent-mindedly.

Harry shrugged, about to answer as Louis suggested suddenly, “Let’s play spin the bottle!”

The taller boy snorted at that, “Lou, we’re only two people. I’m sure they’re playing inside.”

“But I wanna kiss youuuu”, Louis whined.

Harry’s eyes widened and his heart might’ve just skipped a beat. Before he could get lost in his thoughts about how Louis’ lips would feel on his, he shook his head sadly. “You’re drunk, Louis”, he almost whispered.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you”, the smaller boy whined, and with one motion that was surprisingly quick and elegant for his drunken state, he closed the gap between them and pressed his soft lips to Harry’s.

Harry, who was still trying to comprehend what was just happening, didn’t move at all. Louis’ hands gripping his curls tightly, however, seemed to break the spell that had been on him and, as much as he had wanted this for so, so long, he pushed against Louis’ chest, murmuring his name to get him to listen and stop.

Louis looked upset at Harry’s interrupting. He pouted and made grabby motions for Harry as if he couldn’t wait to rejoin their mouths.

Harry sighed deeply. He knew it was wrong to let Louis kiss him when he was drunk, he knew this was going to end in a disaster and that he’d end up heart-broken, but he’d been wanting Louis for years now, and it was very unlikely for this chance to ever occur again. Also, there was no one around, so he finally dropped his hands from where they’d been gripping Louis shirt to hold him back and Louis was at him in a second.

The kiss was neither gentle nor loving, it was messy and hot, a dirty swirl of tongues with teeth clashing and spit everywhere. Harry grew hard unsurprisingly fast, and held back a moan when he felt Louis’ erection grinding against his thigh.

With one fluid motion, he gripped Louis thighs and hoisted him up, keeping their mouths connected all the time. When Louis bucked his hips up into his, he moaned darkly, gripping his thighs even tighter, eyes scanning for people in the small room next to the balcony.

Luckily, it was empty, and he was quick to find an unoccupied bedroom. Louis, in the meantime, had been busying himself with sucking dark, purple marks into Harry’s sweaty neck, causing the younger boy to let out low curses and hisses.

They were both panting when they quickly undressed each other, and their kisses had lost even the tiniest bit of finesse, but it felt so good.

“Wanna ride you”, Louis panted, and Harry nearly lost it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, laying back and pulling Louis on top of him. Before he could do anything, Louis caressed his bottom lip with three of his fingers, looking at him with pleading eyes that held almost no blue any more.

Harry obeyed immediately, sucking on the older boy’s slim fingers and coating them in his spit as thoroughly as possible.

When Louis grew impatient, he withdrew his digits and slowly inserted the first one in his hole, making a show of letting Harry watch. His face scrunched up in pleasure and soon he rocked back on three of his fingers, all the while letting out little moaning sounds that were getting Harry harder and harder, if that was even possible.

The taller boy resisted the urge to stroke himself, because he knew he wouldn’t last long. Desperate to do something, he whispered little encouragements of how beautiful Louis was, and it seemed to egg the smaller boy on.

“’M ready, ready,” he babbled, words even more slurred than before, and when he lowered his mouth to Harry’s cock, he took him by surprise, making him almost scream his name.

Louis hummed around the tip, the vibrations shaking Harry’s whole body with pleasure, and he made quick work of getting him wet. After a short while, Harry desperately pulled at Louis’ hair to get him off, because he didn’t want to cum right now and end this already.

Louis obeyed as if he could read Harry’s thoughts and got back up, looking down at Harry, who was a panting mess already, before letting their tongues dance once again.

When Louis finally, finally lowered himself, Harry almost exploded in his tight, tight heat. They both let out deep moans when Louis’ ass met Harry’s hips. Louis’ eyes were glassy and unfocused, only a small ring of blue circling his blown pupils. His hair was a mess and sweaty like the rest of him, and his lips were opened slightly, bruised from their kissing and shining with spit. Harry thought he’d never looked more beautiful.

Louis lifted himself up at a fast pace, and Harry’s hand burned bruises into his hips. The air was hot and filled with their moans and the delicious sound of skin slapping skin.

Harry struggled to keep his head up and his eyes open, determined to watch Louis come undone. The other boy, on the other hand, had his head thrown back, exposing the tan column of his throat, and his fingers were scratching Harry’s chest for purchase.

When Harry felt Louis’ thighs starting to tremble, he lifted his hips and met him halfway with each thrust, bringing him closer to the edge in record time. It didn’t take more than a few expert strokes from Harry’s hand to have Louis shout his name and paint his chest white.

Harry emptied himself inside Louis’ clenching walls, and they came down from their high simultaneously, panting and gasping.

They were both exhausted and Louis, drunk on alcohol and his orgasm, fell asleep almost instantly after Harry pulled out, his arm draped loosely across Harry’s waist. Harry had never felt so warm and happy before, and he smiled lazily, trying to block out every thought about possible consequences as he drifted off to sleep, too.

****

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke up was that it was cold. The warm weight behind him that he had fallen asleep to was gone. With a groan he sat up, his vision still a bit blurry from sleep and a distant ache in his head.

When he took in the room with the stray sunrays fighting their way through the heavy blinds in front of the window, images from the previous night flew back to his mind with breakneck speed, and he had to lie down again to avoid vomiting. He felt sick to the stomach, but not only because he was hung over, also because the last night changed everything, and he dared to bet all that he had that it changed for the worse.

He slowly got dressed, squeezing his eyes shut quickly as he recognised the long, red scratches that ran along his chest, and then passed the living room and the snoring bodies and innumerable cans and bottles of whatever alcohol quietly, making his way to his car.

A look at his Smartphone showed him one missed text message from Liam, and he knew what it  
said, but still read it, in hopes he was wrong.

“Today at mine. Hope ur not too mopy bc of Niall’s party yesterday ;)”

He’d known that they had a meeting with the four other lads today, but he’d hoped he could avoid Louis at least for a few days to forget the whole thing, although he didn’t think he could.

Now the last straw he had was to hope Louis was too drunk to remember.

****

As it turned out, he shouldn’t get that question answered too soon, because Louis didn’t appear at Liam’s. After half an hour of waiting and several calls, Liam finally asked Harry, “Do you know what’s up with him?”

“No. Why should I?”

Liam’s tone had been soft, so he was surprised as Harry’s voice was louder and more defensive than necessary. He lifted his hands in surrender, and Harry calmed a bit.

“Sorry, mate. No, I don’t know where he is”, Harry repeated, more gently this time.

They postponed their meeting for two days, informing Louis with a text that never got a reply.

****

Two days later, they were all expecting the occasion would repeat itself, because after twenty minutes Louis still wasn’t there, and Harry didn’t know if he should be glad or not. Foremost, he worried about his friend, and their friendship, of course.

Just as they were about to pack their things, the door opened and Louis came in.

He looked bad. His hair was a mess and he had purple bags beneath his eyes. It seemed like he hadn’t shaved since the party and when he sat down without so much as glancing at Harry, the younger boy’s guts dropped. So Louis remembered.

The three other boys looked at their oldest member with a mixture of confusion and concern, mostly, but Liam tried to stay professional and announced, albeit with raised eyebrows, “Um, so, there are some things I wanted to ask you about…”

 

They talked for about an hour until Liam called it a day, and Louis exited the room as soon as the twenty-year-old had closed his mouth. The four boys all looked after him, and then Zayn, Liam and Niall slowly turned around to Harry, asking him for answers with their eyes.

Harry knew their behaviour was rational, that it was normal to ask someone’s best friend what was up, but he felt so pressured and helpless, he stared back at them with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth a few times without saying anything before he got up himself and left, tears burning at the back of his eyes.

And, like, no. He wasn’t going to cry over Louis, he’d sworn himself the day he realised he had feelings for his best friend that he wouldn’t let it affect him that much.

So he drove back to his flat, watched Titanic with a big bowl of ice cream in front of him. And if he cried, then solely because of the movie.

****

It turned out the next time they’d meet wasn’t scheduled or planned at all.

Harry stopped on his way home from the supermarket to drop some things he’d bought for Zayn at his flat, only to find said boy curled up on the couch with Louis, who looked up at him in shock and with red-rimmed eyes, looking even worse than the last time Harry’d seen him.

Harry almost dropped the carton of eggs he was carrying, looking helplessly from Louis to Zayn, who then stood up, gently took the groceries from him and led him out of the flat, thanking him quietly and advising him to just let Louis have his space.

So Zayn knew. Harry felt like crying again. He did.

****

The lecture he expected from Zayn (or Liam, because let’s be honest, it was only a matter of time before the news would be passed on) didn’t come, in fact the older boy acted as though nothing had happened.

Louis was still avoiding Harry, though, and it was eating him alive.

There was barely any chance to talk, and if there was, Louis would spare no pains in finding a way out of it.

It was obvious that they both were extremely affected by what had happened as well as their lack of interaction, both with dark rings under their eyes and always in a pissy mood.

It all went down the drain when Louis brought Eleanor with him on tour, now spending almost every second with her, kissing her as often as possible as if to prove a point. Harry knew he was.

Harry had tried to be polite, really, he had greeted Eleanor with an – albeit fake – smile and what he hoped was a friendly handshake. But after hours of having to endure them both practically eating the other’s face, he had enough.

So he chose the only way out he had: Nick.

He called him one evening they had no show and that they spent in telling rather lame stories while Eleanor and Louis had gone off somewhere to do – well, Harry didn’t want to know.

 

Four hours and way too much alcohol later, Harry was sobbing onto Nick’s without doubt expensive shirt, telling him what had happened and letting himself be caressed by the soothing hands that went up and down his back.

“Forget about him, mate. Even if it’s only for the night.”

So Harry did. Forget about Louis, about all of him, his blue, blue eyes, his kissable lips, the way he had felt that night, the things he had said – everything. He wanted so badly to forget, so he drowned whatever was given to him, always asking for more, and when he woke up in the morning, his head throbbing and hurting and aching, he felt good, because he couldn’t remember a thing that had happened the night before. He’d forgotten.

*****

The room was shaking with the loud beat of the newest David Guetta song, people were dancing and singing and loving, and Harry knew that today his new aim would be easy to reach.

He had lost sight of the other boys some time ago, having arrived with only Nick, who had left half an hour prior to talk to the DJ. He hasn’t seen him since, and the other boys, who he had exchanged quick greetings with, had vanished too.

As far as he knew, Eleanor had to fly back home today. He didn’t care though. Well, he did, but not for long. He would forget.

It was getting later, the beat heavier and the lights brighter, everything was spinning in the most pleasant way, and when someone spilt his drink all over him, he just started giggling.

“Oops, sorry!” the drink-spiller exclaimed.

Harry shrugged, looking up at the tall man with unfocused eyes. “Hiii!”, he shouted. He didn’t wince at the reference. He didn’t remember.

“You wanna dance, sweetheart?”, the fit man asked and led a blushing Harry onto the dance floor where people were already grinding filthily.

Soon he was swaying his hips happily to the music, the man behind him breathing against his neck, kissing the skin there softly.

“How far’s your flat away, Curly?”, he asked into Harry’s ear, who jumped a bit in surprise but grinned, answering, “Only a few minutes.”

He wanted to turn around and continue dancing, but the man suggested going there, and Harry grinned happily, nodding and making his way outside, leading him by the hand.

 

In retrospect, he should’ve known. He should’ve seen red flags when the man gripped his hip too tightly to be comfortable, or when he was breathing into his ear heavily, way too close for Harry’s liking. Actually, he shouldn’t have led him to his flat at all, but he was too drunk to worry about that.

However, he was much more sober now, underneath the all of a sudden intimidating man, a greasy hand muffling his pleads of “NO!” and with tears of frustration and shame rushing down his cheeks.

Everything that had happened between right now and when he had led the man in was a blur, he couldn’t recall getting undressed or even entering the bedroom. And although he was still drunk, a little part in the back of his mind already knew that his newly found strategy, forgetting, wouldn’t work in this case.

His arms and legs were already tired from fighting against the heavy weight of the male above him – in vain – and he didn’t build up a lot of resistance when the man spread his legs apart. As he was penetrated with no preparation at all, he let out a tortured scream, which not even the huge hand of the man could mute any more.

Harry wanted to die. He felt split open, stupid and worthless. He wished nothing but for the next minutes to pass as quickly as possible, for the man to finish and then leave him alone to try and fix the broken pieces of his self.

The pain didn’t subside as the man moved, it only increased, and Harry was full on sobbing now, the hand having left his mouth to keep his arms from slapping around messily.

Harry could feel a sticky liquid flow down his legs, and he knew he was bleeding, but at least it allowed a somewhat softer glide.

Harry’s world was spinning, this time in the worst way imaginable, and he couldn’t focus on anything but the pain. Which is why he did neither hear the angsty shout of his name nor the grunted response from his rapist.

What happened next was a mess of words and pain, and only when it was finally calm again after the door of their flat had slammed close did Harry realise that the weight on top of him, and inside him, has vanished.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the tears, and saw Louis standing in their doorway, looking at him with a shocked expression, mouth agape and eyes wide and terrified.

It was then that Harry broke down, burying his throbbing head in his aching arms and sobbed, cried and screamed. Every tiny movement hurt as hell, and when he felt a hand touch his shoulder he flinched back, only to cry out in pain.

It took him a while to realise that there was someone talking to him. And it took him another while to realise that that someone was Louis.

“Shh, shh, it’s only me, I won’t hurt you. Shh, darling, here, let me help you.”

Finally, he surrendered, letting his spent body collapse into Louis’ arms, where he fell into a fitful sleep as exhaustion got the best of him.

****

Harry woke up, and wished he hadn’t. His body felt on fire, his limbs were sore and he could feel bruises forming on different parts of his body. He didn’t even want to think about his ass.

The next thing he realised after the pain was that he was dirty, covered in blood, tears and spit.

Then he noticed he was lying in all this mess with someone. That someone was Louis. Louis was looking at him. Oh.

Louis reached his hand out slowly, and Harry flinched back although he didn’t intend to, but Louis didn’t stop until he reached his destination and removed Harry’s sweaty fringe gently.

Harry felt like dirt. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, even less from Louis.

He tried to tell him that much, but the older boy just shut him up.

“We can talk later. Now let’s get you clean, alright, love?”

Harry blushed at the nickname, and felt even worse afterwards, but Louis didn’t seem to have noticed. A shower or bath sounded really appealing right now, so he let himself be led out of bed and to the bathroom, where Louis climbed into the tub behind him, careful as to not touch Harry where he was hurt, and gently washed his body and hair.

When the two of them were clean again, Louis wordlessly let the more red than clear water run out while Harry went to his room to change into clothes.

When he didn’t return after five minutes, Louis went to look up on him. He found Harry standing naked in front of the mirror in his room, looking at the bruises covering his whole body with tears in his eyes he hadn’t even noticed forming.

Louis immediately rushed to his best friend, hugging him despite Harry’s flinching, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Harry pulled back, confusion clouding his mind as he asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“It’s my fault.”

Harry was about to protest, but Louis shut him up with a deep sigh and one look that told him something important was to follow, so he listened to Louis as he explained,

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, at the party. Or, I should have, because I really wanted to, but I shouldn’t have been such a coward afterwards. I should’ve admitted to myself, and to you, and to Eleanor, that I’m gay, and in love with you. I hurt three people when I could’ve made us two happy. I’m sorry.”

“You... You’re in what with me?”, Harry asked dumbfounded, but who could blame him?

“I love you Harry, always have, but I’m just – I was just so afraid of it, it scared me how much I depended on you, so I thought maybe I could force myself to fall out of love with you, to be straight. And then after I let you see the real me at that stupid party, I thought you didn’t want me, and I tried to give you space, but...”

The two of them were crying now, both happy and sad tears. Louis didn’t stop rambling on about what he should’ve done and hadn’t and what he had done and shouldn’t have until Harry took him in his arms and sighed,

“What happened happened. We can now only try to move on.”

****

And they did try. It wasn’t easy, not at all, because every other night Harry would wake up in sweat, heart racing and eyes searching the room for the face that had been haunting him since that night, he would scream and cry until he found his way back to reality. But he was okay when daylight dawned, because Louis held him through it all.

It wasn’t easy, not at all, because Louis often couldn’t sleep at night, and he would watch Harry’s peaceful face – he savoured every moment of it because it could turn pained and hurt every second – and his mind would plague him with guilt. But Harry always sensed when something was up, so whenever he asked Louis would tell him about his worries, and Harry would soothe him with genuine words.

And it wasn’t easy, not at all, because Harry was still jumpy when someone other than Louis, even one of the boys, touched him. And Louis was still over-protective when someone talked to Harry in a way that was genuinely friendly, but Louis couldn’t help wanting to protect his boyfriend – yes, boyfriend – at least now, and it took time and soothing reassurances from Harry that the guy indeed was only being friendly.

There were a lot of bumps in the road, but they’d swerve. There were a lot of tears and fears at night, but when the morning sun rose, they’d be alright again.

Because they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and kudos make me sooooo happy :) xx


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